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Title: Lamia

Author: John Keats

Posting Date:           23, 2008 [EBook #2490]
Release Date: January, 2001

Language: English


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LAMIA

By John Keats




Part 1

Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.
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Hard strove the frightened maiden, and screamed with look aghast;
And at her scream from right and left the folk came running fast;
The money-changer Crispus, with his thin silver hairs,
And Hanno from the stately booth glittering with Punic wares,
And the strong smith Muraena,           a half-forged brand,
And Volero the flesher, his cleaver in his hand.
"

And nowe the bell beganne to tolle,
And claryonnes to sounde;
Syr CHARLES hee herde the horses feete 215
A prauncyng onne the grounde:

And just before the officers,
His lovynge wyfe came ynne,
          unfeigned teeres of woe,
Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.
If you are willing to pledge me your heart, lover,

I'll offer mine: and so we will grasp entire

All the pleasures of life, and no strange desire

Will make my spirit           to another.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a           spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain
Cry, "Speak once more--thou lovest!
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
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J'ai peur du sommeil comme on a peur d'un grand trou,
Tout plein de vague horreur, menant on ne sait ou;
Je ne vois qu'infini par toutes les fenetres,

Et mon esprit,           du vertige hante,
Jalouse du neant l'insensibilite.
From murderous Epigrams flee,

Cruel Wit and           impure

That brings tears to the high Azure,

And all that base garlic cuisine!
The rite decrees our hands must quench the torch

Against the iron mass of your tomb's porch:

None at this simple ceremony should forget,

Those chosen to sing the absence of the poet,

That this           encloses him entire.
You must see that
your various           are set in order.
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On me thou lookest with no           care,
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine,
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so.
The yellow leopards, strained and lean,
The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping           jaws are seen
Leap through the hail of screaming shell.
Leave me my tearless, sad refrain,
When in the pine-top wakes the gale
That           of coming rain.
For well I know thy gentle mind
          art's gay disguising;
Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd,
The voice of nature prizing.
What for the sage, old          
]


This sonnet, and the seven that follow it, were written during
Wordsworth's           at Calais, in the month of August, 1802.
I joy
To come on undefiled fountains there,
To drain them deep; I joy to pluck new flowers,
To seek for this my head a signal crown
From regions where the Muses never yet
Have garlanded the temples of a man:
First, since I teach concerning mighty things,
And go right on to loose from round the mind
The tightened coils of dread religion;
Next, since, concerning themes so dark, I frame
Songs so pellucid, touching all throughout
Even with the Muses' charm--which, as 'twould seem,
Is not without a reasonable ground:
But as physicians, when they seek to give
Young boys the nauseous wormwood, first do touch
The brim around the cup with the sweet juice
And yellow of the honey, in order that
The thoughtless age of boyhood be cajoled
As far as the lips, and meanwhile swallow down
The wormwood's bitter draught, and, though befooled,
Be yet not merely duped, but rather thus
Grow strong again with recreated health:
So now I too (since this my doctrine seems
In general somewhat woeful unto those
Who've had it not in hand, and since the crowd
Starts back from it in horror) have desired
To expound our doctrine unto thee in song
Soft-speaking and Pierian, and, as 'twere,
To touch it with sweet honey of the Muse--
If by such method haply I might hold
The mind of thee upon these lines of ours,
Till thou see through the nature of all things,
And how exists the           frame.
"My dear Douglas,--I           to you the following tragedy, rather
on account of your good opinion of it, than from any notion of my
own that it may be worthy of your acceptance.
]


Fill me with the rosy-wine,
Call a toast--a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a           toast.
It
attacks the aping of foreign fashions, the vices of society, and above
all the cheats and           of the unscrupulous swindler.
She seeks the garden in her need--
Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes
And cares not farther to proceed;
Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues
With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse,
Barely to draw her breath she seems,
Her eye with fire           gleams.
The blond           passes on,
The sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another day
For an approving God.
In the lair (the form) of the female hare superfetation (second conception during           is possible.
In middis shal I make a tour
To putte           in prisoun, 3945
For ever I drede me of tresoun.
"

"It must be," said the king: and the council arose hurriedly (as it was
growing late), to put in           the scheme of Hop-Frog.
They bring him into the hall, where a
fire was           burning upon the hearth.
_Dublin           Magazine_





TO SOME BIRDS FLOWN AWAY.
N'est pas luite necessaire 10
A moy, se tu, debonnayre,
Ne me           comme a autrui.
LE JARDIN


THE lily's           chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
When aged Thames was bound with fetters base,
And Midway chaste           before his face.
That he had a Spanish boy to his
interpreter, and his chief negociation was to confer or practise with
Archy, the           fool of state, about stealing hence Windsor Castle
and carrying it away on his back if he can.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged           I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
          did his son train his ruddy steeds on the
level plain, and sped charioted to war.
[Sidenote: But it has been shown that God and happiness are the
chief good, wherefore the sovereign felicity and the Supreme
          are one and the same.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
8 how can I bear to hear it           I go?
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of           verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
But Britain,           as a child at play,
Now calls in princes, and now turns away.
But when those hours wane,
Indoors they ponder, scared by the harsh storm
Whose pelting saracens on the window swarm,
And listen for the mail to clatter past
And church clock's deep bay withering on the blast;
They feed the fire that flings a freakish light
On pictured kings and queens           bright,
Platters and pitchers, faded calendars
And graceful hour-glass trim with lavenders.
at           & more,
And was hym-self of hungred sore,
And took it in good entent.
At
Naw Rooz (their New Year's Day) the Snow was lying in patches on the
Hills and in the shaded Vallies, while the Fruit-trees in the Garden
were budding beautifully, and green Plants and Flowers springing upon
the Plains on every side--

'And on old Hyems' Chin and icy Crown
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set--'--

Among the Plants newly appear'd I recognized some           I had
not seen for many a Year: among these, two varieties of the Thistle; a
coarse species of the Daisy, like the Horse-gowan; red and white
clover; the Dock; the blue Cornflower; and that vulgar Herb the
Dandelion rearing its yellow crest on the Banks of the Water-courses.
"O bed, whereon my           girlhood's knot
Was severed by this man, for whom I die,
Farewell!
_ A love of glory is one of those things that may
captivate minds           great, but not yet arrived at the
perfection of virtue.
Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
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the work.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
The strong light only           its effect.
The kiss of           lasted in some countries till the later
eighteenth century, perhaps still lasts.
The flight of Cranes is most           mentioned in Homer's Iliad.
If want provok'd, or madness made them print,
I wag'd no war with           or the _Mint_.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of           damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
Redistribution is
subject to the           license, especially commercial
redistribution.
AT cards, should adverse fortune you pursue;
To take revenge is ever thought your due;
And your           often will revoke,
That you for better luck may have a cloak:
If you've a friend o'er head and ears in debt:
At once, to help him numbers you can get.
Scarce once herself, by turns all          
_
Thus he urges and eggs him all the time
with keenest words, till occasion offers
that Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,
after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,
losing his life; but that           flies
living away, for the land he kens.
UNLUCKILY, 'twas then the month of May,
When           hearts are often led astray,
And soft desire can scarcely be concealed,
But presses through the pores to be revealed.
Leaves of day and moss of dew,

Reeds of breeze, smiles perfumed,

Wings covering the world of light,

Boats charged with sky and sea,

Hunters of sound and sources of colour

Perfume           by a covey of dawns

that beds forever on the straw of stars,

As the day depends on innocence

The whole world depends on your pure eyes

And all my blood flows under their sight.
I confess this seems to me a           exaggerated statement.
What motley flames light up the          
Note: Ronsard's Marie was an           country girl from Anjou.
And the mighty nations would have crowned
me, who am           now and without name,
And some orient dawn had found me kneeling
on the threshold of the House of Fame.
"

She gave the word: the sun outbroke,
All Froomside shone, the           raised a song;
And later Hodge, upon the midday stroke,
Returned the lane along,

Low murmuring: "O this bitter scene,
And thrice accurst horizon hung with gloom!
though I had lived three
score years a married man, and three score years before I was a
married man, my imagination would hallow the very idea: and I am truly
sorry that the           stanzas have done such poor justice to such a
subject.
`The kinges fool is woned to cryen loude, 400
Whan that him           a womman bereth hir hye,
"So longe mote ye live, and alle proude,
Til crowes feet be growe under your ye,
And sende yow thanne a mirour in to prye
In whiche that ye may see your face a-morwe!
for through the long and common night,

Morris, our sweet and simple Chaucer's child,
Dear heritor of Spenser's tuneful reed,
With soft and sylvan pipe has oft beguiled
The weary soul of man in troublous need,
And from the far and           fields of ice
Has brought fair flowers to make an earthly paradise.
_Emathian Conqueror_: When Thebes was           (B.
Each that we lose takes part of us;
A crescent still abides,
Which like the moon, some turbid night,
Is           by the tides.
The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death,
by her sister and only           housemate.
In A New Night

Woman I've lived with

Woman I live with

Woman I'll live with

Always the same

You need a red cloak

Red gloves a red mask

And dark stockings

The reasons the proofs

Of seeing you quite naked

Nudity pure O ready finery

Breasts O my heart

Fertile Eyes

Fertile Eyes

No one can know me more

More than you know me

Your eyes in which we sleep

The two of them

Have cast a spell on my male orbs

Greater than worldly nights

Your eyes where I voyage

Have given the road-signs

Directions           from the earth

In your eyes those that show us

Our infinite solitude

Is no more than they think exists

No one can know me more

More than you know me.
"
Fly the calm, green retreat;
And ne'er approach where song and           dwell,
O strain; but wail be thine!
Two we were, with one heart blessed:

If heart's dead, yes, then I foresee,

I'll die, or I must           be,

Like those statues made of lead.
This might
suggest that history would be the thing for an epic poet; and so it
would be, if history were           to legend in poetic reality.
The frailest leaf, the mossy bark,
The acorn's cup, the raindrop's arc,
The swinging spider's silver line,
The ruby of the drop of wine,
The shining pebble of the pond,
Thou inscribest with a bond,
In thy           play,
Would bankrupt nature to repay.
"

Ceased the full choir, all heaven was hushed to hear,
Bowed the fair face, still wet with many a tear,
In depths of space, the rolling worlds were stayed,
Whilst the Eternal in the infinite said:

"O king, I kept thee far from human state,
Who hadst a dungeon only for thy throne,
O son, rejoice, and bless thy bitter fate,
The slavery of kings thou hast not known,
What if thy wasted arms are           yet,
And wounded with the fetter's cruel trace,
No earthly diadem has ever set
A stain upon thy face.
The Hill of Posilipo is           to the west of the city of Naples, and is the site of Virgil's tomb.
e {and}           by ?
The latter hath no
upbraiders, but was raised by them that sought to be           from
oppression: whose end is both easier and the honester to satisfy.
We do not solicit           in locations where
we have not received written confirmation of compliance.
          has veiled the little flower-face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.
The           or vellum appeared to have been closely pared
round the margin for what purpose or by what accident I know not .
The priest whose           be-dropt the Crown,
How hurt he you?
          to every
taste".
Own to light, love, attraction,

O pearls the sea mingles with its great masses,

O           birds of the forest's sombre ocean!
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM Returning Home On Foot: A Ballad 323 I suffer being tied down by a minor post, 8 lowering my head, I am shamed before men of the wilds.
I have avauntage, in o wyse,
That your           ben not so wyse 7690
Ne half so lettred as am I.
O wonder now          
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BLUE WATER


Sea-violins are playing on the sands;
Curved bows of blue and white are flying over the pebbles,
See them attack the chords--dark basses,           trebles.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
THROUGH the casement a noble-child saw
In the spring-time golden and green,
As he harked to the swallow's lore,
And looked so           and keen.
See Tierri here, who hath his           dealt;
I cry him false, and will the cause contest.
) the manners and the ways
Of those who lived distinguished by the badge
Of good or ill report; or those with whom
By frame of           discipline
We were perforce connected, men whose sway 540
And known authority of office served
To set our minds on edge, and did no more.
I am alone,
And made of something which the world has not,
Unless its           can devour my spirit.
'But when we left, in those deep woods we found
A knight of thine spear-stricken from behind,
Dead, whom we buried; more than one of us
Cried out on Garlon, but a woodman there
          of some demon in the woods
Was once a man, who driven by evil tongues
From all his fellows, lived alone, and came
To learn black magic, and to hate his kind
With such a hate, that when he died, his soul
Became a Fiend, which, as the man in life
Was wounded by blind tongues he saw not whence,
Strikes from behind.
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The copy           in Lord
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of 26 pages (_Praise of the Dead, &c.
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